


The Cruel and the Kind

by EnsignWhispy



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Comfort, Disability, Disabled Character, Elven healing headcanons, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fourth Age, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pretty much ignores everything after CAWS, Swearing, This is so self-indulgent I can't believe I actually published it, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2018-12-06 15:52:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11603868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnsignWhispy/pseuds/EnsignWhispy
Summary: In a freak accident, Steve and Bucky are transported to Middle-Earth. Without any way home, they are forced to find shelter with a group of Rangers. And Bucky's arm is acting up...





	1. Chapter 1

Steve’s sure of one thing: “This is Tony’s fault,” he grunts, using his shield to push through the underbrush. Bucky chuckles weakly, then grimaces, clutching his shoulder where flesh meets metal.

All day, they’ve trudged across this wood, searching for civilization. When their spirits are high, they fiddle with their comms, trying to call Tony, and swear at him under their breath when they are low. Needless to say: their spirits haven’t been high.

Tony’d been working on a project based off Asgardian technology. Ideally, Tony claimed, it’d transport them from Earth to Asgard, and later he’d see if it could be put to other uses. This intrigued Steve and Bucky, and Thor enthusiastically wished to show them his home. So, during Tony’s first test of the transporter’s functionality, they stepped inside and let Tony flip the switch.

It’s beautiful here---wherever here is---at least; air dense with the scent of pine, and golden sunlight shining through the trees. Though a poor consolation prize for being lost in _another damn dimension_ , they take what they can get. Both Steve and Bucky are city boys, born and raised, but part of Steve---one that isn’t obsessively cataloguing contingency plans---feels the forest’s solitude resonate with him, distantly, beyond the anxiety of the moment. He doesn’t dwell on the feeling. Sunset approaches, and they haven’t even found an abandoned cabin. And there’s Bucky’s arm---moving clumsily and freezing randomly. Sometimes Steve sees Bucky wince out of the corner of his eye, although Bucky tries to hide it.

“Last time we trust Stark.”

“Damn right,” says Steve. Looking back at Bucky, he frowns. “Hey, Buck, doin’ okay?”

“When am I not?” Bucky deadpans, and hisses, face screwing up. “ _Shit_. Steve…” he pants, eyes wild and distant. “I...think the machine...it did something to the arm.”

“Can you keep on moving?” Steve asks, looking around for a solution he knows doesn’t exist. “We might find civilization. We could find a way to contact Tony, to get him to transport us back.” Steve’s lying. They both know it.

“I don’t know. I’m trying. This is….this is really fucking me up, Steve. Hurts so damn bad.” His chest heaves as he hyperventilates, and color drains from his face.

“ Okay. Okay, Bucky, we’ll try to rest for a bit, alright? No worries. Let’s rest.” Nodding vaguely, Bucky drops to the ground and shuffles backwards, pressing his back against the trunk of an enormous pine tree. Steve kneels next to Bucky, who now trembles violently. Cold sweat beads his forehead.

“I’m here, pal,” Steve says, trying to keep his voice soothing. Bucky grunts, and spasms violently. “You’re just having bad memories, Buck. None of them are real. They can’t hurt you.”

“Oh, _fuck_ _you_ ,” Bucky spits, no anger behind it, and lets Steve rub his back. Suddenly, Bucky snaps up his head. “Steve,” he whispers. Steve hears it too: hoofbeats rumbling through the woods, and growing rapidly louder.  He stands in front of Bucky, shield braced against his forearm.

At least a dozen men on horseback burst through the trees, surrounding them, bows drawn. Automatically, Steve looks around for an escape route. There isn’t one; the riders continue to close in, and Steve deepens his stance, ready to fight.

“Stand down, stranger.” A being riding a slender black horse emerges from the crowd, meeting Steve’s eyes with utter confidence. The being’s face shines with wild, terrifying beauty, and his long hair is braided away from his face with silver and blue beads, revealing delicately pointed ears. Steve gapes for a moment before forcing himself to regain his composure.

  “Stand down? You surrounded _us_ ,” says Steve. “We’re lost and looking for our way home, for God’s sake, not _dangerous_.”

“Still. You wander our woods, dressed in strange garb and moving towards forbidden land. We are its protectors, and we shall not abandon it.”

“We didn’t know,” says Steve, frustrated. “We have no idea where the hell we are. My friend is...unwell, and we’re just trying to find a way home.”

The being’s face softens. “We know, and share your concern for your friend. There is a reason we approached when we did. I sense no evil intentions from you, but still, we must do our duty. Allow us to provide aid and healing to your companion. We will bring you back to our camp, where he may recover, and where we shall provide you with food and shelter. In exchange, we only ask for your honesty, and an audience with our leader. If you speak truthfully, stranger, you have naught to fear.”

It’s not in Steve’s nature to allow himself to be trapped. But what other choice is there? “We’ll go,” he says. “But you have to answer my questions too.”

“Of course, if it is ours to divulge. But first, allow me to ease your friend,” said the being, dismounting his horse.

“If he lets you. He...isn’t too fond of strangers.”

“I hope we shall not be strangers for much longer, friend,” he says with a small smile. “I am Elladan. There are far too many Rangers to introduce you to at this moment, but you will know them later, I have no doubt.”  

For a long while, Elladan kneels in front of Bucky, simply watching, face inscrutable. Bucky is far from the present.. His right hand clenches a fistful of hair as he knocks his head backwards into the tree. Under his breath, he rattles off a string of swears and whimpers, and then, very clearly says, “ _Steve. Please_.”

“Buck…We want to help you, alright? You with me, pal?”

“ _Steve!_ ” he growls . “Fuckin’ _hurts_.”  

“I know, Buck, I know...We’re gonna help you, I promise.”

“This is a wound long festering,” murmurs Elladan sadly. “Does he understand our words, do you think?”

Steve shrugs. “A little bit, but not really. The pain’s making him think he’s reliving a bad memory.”

“I am familiar with his condition.”  Elladan edges towards Bucky.  “Bucky,” he says, in such a soothing voice Steve feels his own tension draining away. “Do you hear me?” Buck gives no response, still swearing. “My name is Elladan, and I am a healer. I only seek to help you, friend, should you allow it.” On and on he soothes, to no response. Finally, he rocks back onto his heels. “Perhaps if we had time he would respond. But night is falling, and even in these days, it is still not safe to linger after dark beyond The Road. Can you consent for him?”

“What?” Steve blurts.

“Do you know him well enough to consent for him?”

“...I do. Consent to what, exactly?”

“To put him to sleep,” says Elladan. “A gentle, healing sleep, so that his anxiety may be eased for some time. In the meantime, we can travel to our camp. He will wake in safety and warmth, and will be given time and space to recover.”

“He won’t accept medication. It would trigger him more.”

Elladan laughs, eyes sparkling. “I do not even have my healer’s kit. No, I would put him to sleep with a healer’s touch. Doing so would require me to touch him lightly, but it would be quite quick to implement, pleasant and painless.” Steve must make a face, since Elladan continues on. “It is a simple thing for me to do, Steve, and it is very safe. He would sleep for perhaps an hour, an hour and a half, and then wake naturally, no worse for wear, and likely greatly eased.”

“It’s safe?”

“Yes. As safe and as sweet as any natural sleep,” says Elladan.

“And you won’t do anything more than that?”

“Not without Bucky’s consent. I swear it upon my house, and upon my name as a healer. I will only do, with your permission, what is necessary at this moment in time.”  

Two fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, Steve groans. “Alright. Help him, please, but know if you even think of hurting him…”

“I know,” he says, smiling at Steve mildly, and then shifts to face Bucky once more. Elladan takes a few moments to gather himself, and then: “Bucky, _hear_ _me_.” The words ring with power, and Steve thinks he might see Bucky straighten in response, although his eyes don’t lose their glazed stare. Then, Elladan’s voice softens.“I am a friend; do not be afraid. Allow me to ease your suffering and send you to sleep for a time.”

Elladan waits once more, but Bucky still doesn’t  respond. “I am going to touch your forehead,” he says. “This will not hurt.” Slowly, with carefully projected movements, Elladan stretches out his arm and brushes his thumb against Bucky’s forehead.

Bucky gasps softly,  eyes rolling up into his head.

“Hey…!” Startled, Steve steps towards Bucky as Elladan eases his limp body down to rest on the grass.

“It is well, Steve,” says Elladan. “He has not been harmed. That was just the muscles around his eyes relaxing fully.” Elladan reaches out for Steve’s hand, and gently tugs him to the forest floor so he kneels beside him. “Look. His eyes have closed, and his breathing is deep.” Elladan grasps two of Steve’s fingers, and guides them to rest on Bucky’s throat. “His pulse is steady.” And, though Elladan doesn’t point it out, Steve reluctantly notices that color has already returned to Bucky’s face.

Elladan stands. “I shall get you a horse,” he says, disappearing into the crowd of men. The men still eye them suspiciously, Steve notices, and murmur together in their own language. Elladan pulls one man aside and speaks to him. The man nods, turns his horse around, and gallops away into the forest. They are sending out a messenger. Watching the messenger disappear into the shadows, anxiety bubbles in his stomach, but Bucky’s weight against his shoulder stays his instinct to investigate.  Steve lifts Bucky to lean against his chest, and Bucky turns his face into Steve’s shoulder, mumbling.  

“Bucky…?”

He hums, his eyes fluttering.

Steve pats Bucky’s shoulder, and turns his attention back to Elladan and the crowd of men. Elladan removes a saddle and other supplies from a heavyset, patient horse, and the men redistribute it amongst their own horses. Once done, Elladan ties the reins on the horse’s neck, and with a whisper and a gesture, leads it forward towards Steve and Bucky. Then, he give it another command, and it lowers itself onto the ground.

“This is Inzil,” says Elladan, rubbing the diamond-shaped mark on the horse’s forehead with his knuckle. “She is a kind soul, and shall bear you well. Do not worry about guiding her. She knows these lands and will follow her friends, and my word.” Steve _hates_ being trapped. He nods anyways, and stands, Bucky in his arms.  Carefully, he mounts the horse, and wraps his arms tightly under Bucky’s armpits. “Ready?” Steve nods.

With another command, Inzil rises to her feet. Elladan calls over his own horse, and leaps onto its back. He turns to Steve. “Now,” he says, “We ride.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky is confused about how he feels about Elladan's help. Bucky meets a new...friend? and almost gets into a Fight. Elladan and Steve stop him. Important questions are asked.

Warm and safe, Bucky floats.

Distantly, he’s aware of touches, of movement. It doesn’t disturb him, though, and he’s far beyond pain. Instead of blackness on the back of his eyelids, he watches himself dreaming silly, pleasant, vivid dreams. They fill his sleep with colors, blossoming and then washing away, and he smells his old shaving kit and newspaper and Sarah Roger’s apple cake. Beyond the tingling enveloping his body, he feels the coarse texture of Steve’s uniform. 

Steve’s voice enters his dreams. “Hey, Buck,” it says, and he turns towards it, content. “Bucky, it’s time to wake up, buddy.” Bucky snorts, turns over, and cuddles himself more deeply into the warmth. 

But something tugs at his foot incessantly. “Bucky.” 

“Lemme alone,” he says. “Sleepin’.” 

“Oh, I know,” says Steve. “But it’s time to wake up.”

Again, Steve shakes his ankle, and he yanks it away and rolled over. He tosses and turns, and then rolls towards Steve. Bucky squints open an eye. “Damn it, Steve…I was sleepin’...” he rasps. “You jerk.” 

“Hey. You okay?”

“Mhm.” Bucky yawns and stretches out his whole body. “That was weird,” he mumbles. 

“You’re telling me, pal. I was worried. You took a while to wake up. Elladan said you would wake up just fine by yourself or with some help, but...” Steve rubs his jaw. 

“Listen...Buck...I don’t know if I made the best choice. Hell, I don’t even know if you were with us when I decided to let them help. If I didn’t decide right...well, you have every right to be pissed at me, and I’m sorry.”

“Jesus, Steve,” says Bucky. “What other choice did you have?”

“I coulda figured something out.” 

“Would you stop it with this shit, Steve? I’m not pissed, but I might be soon if you keep up with this.” He closes his eyes once more, and exhales slowly. “I’m fine. I was all there, and I wanted the damn help, okay?” 

“Sorry, Buck. You know me.” 

“I’m blessed,” Bucky says, rolling his eyes. “How long was I asleep?”

“Maybe two hours,” Steve says. “You were out cold.” 

The tent flap flutters open, and Elladan peers around the edge. “You awoke,” he says, smiling. “May I come in?”

Bucky looks down at his hands, covering the metal one with his flesh hand. He nods. 

“Thank you,” says Elladan. Bucky shifts himself into a sitting position and stares at Elladan, cautious but not particularly fearful. Elladan hands him a steaming, fragrant cup. Bucky takes the cup with both hands and brings it towards his chest. His thumbs fidget around it. 

“Chamomile and lavender tea,” says Elladan. “It is quite soothing, should you want to try it. You deserve simple comforts today.” Elladan turns towards Steve. “Would you like some?” 

“Uh, no thank you.” 

Elladan inclines his head. “Now, Bucky,” he says, sitting down, “How are you doing?” 

Bucky turns his gaze down and shrugs.

“Would it be easier if I ask Steve?” Slowly, Bucky nods, and Elladan looks up at Steve expectantly.

“He’s...doing well,” says Steve, leveling an analytical gaze Elladan’s way. “He’s recovering more quickly from this than I would have expected, and seems to trust you. That’s more quickly than I’ve seen him trust anybody after...More quickly than I’ve seen him trust anybody. Did you have anything to do with that?” 

A corner of Elladan’s mouth ticks down. “Bucky’s trust is his own. I am a healer; even if I could influence his trust, it would be a heinous disturbance of just that to coerce him in any way. All I did was ease him to sleep, which he seems to have benefited from, and to which you consented on his behalf. Otherwise he could still be dissociated and catatonic. Would you have preferred that?” 

“Steve, stop,” Bucky sighs. “I’m fine.” He stares at his hands. “Better.” 

“Good,” says Elladan. “May I check your pulse?” Bucky shakes his head no. “Very well. Are you still in pain?” Bucky shrugs, and then after considering, nods. 

“Not as bad.” 

“That is to be expected, after healing sleep. I would desire to ease your pain, should it come back with full intensity, but I will leave that choice to you.” 

Bucky stares at the teacup in his hand, and takes a slow sip. It tastes smooth and sweet, a little honey stirred in. Hands shaking, he sips again, then slams the teacup onto the side table next to the bed he lays upon. The teacup shatters, warm tea spilling over his knuckles. He barely is able to meet Elladan’s eyes, but hopes he looks contrite.

Elladan seems to understand. “It is well, Bucky,” he says, as he gathers the shards and puts them into his satchel. He takes a scrap of fabric from his satchel and wipes up the puddle of tea and honey off of the table. Bucky sucks the tea off his own knuckles nervously.

A Ranger steps quietly inside the tent. He is a young man, nervous, but not inexperienced. He doesn't move in aggressive angles, but watches Bucky out of the corner of his eye, even as Bucky watches him. And though his hands don't drift towards his weapon, he is heavily armed: on his back, there hangs a small bow and quiver, and a sword hangs at his side, a knife in its sheath. His hands are hardened with callouses, and his knuckles are scarred pink. A thin white scar crosses his lips diagonally, from a knife or a sword. 

“Is all well, captain?” he said, eying Bucky, Steve, and the remains of the cup suspiciously. 

“Yes, Beleg,” says Elladan, still unruffled and focused on picking up the last shards. “Simply an accident.” 

“A moment, Elladan?”

“Must it be this moment, Beleg?” sighs Elladan, turning to face the young man.

Beleg looks bashful, but presses on. “It must be soon. The...uh, your brother... has sent Lady Halmacar.” 

“And she is here?” 

“She just arrived.” 

“Ah! Well. In that case--” Elladan turns and bows deeply--“I must leave you, gentlemen. Please, rest, recover, and be at peace. I shall send food and drink to you both shortly. Farewell.” And Elladan follows Beleg out of the tent. 

 

Morwen reaches for her cane and grunts as she stands from her chair. She leans heavily against it as Elladan enters the tent and bows to her. The wolfhound lying at her feet lifts his head, ears perked towards Elladan, whines, and lays his head back down. 

“Really, Morwen. We are friends. There is no need to practice these formalities with me, especially if they cause you pain.” 

“Behave,” snaps Morwen at her dog, and then turns her hard gaze towards Elladan. “I am Morwen Halmacar, Steward of Arnor. I may do as I please, Elladan,” she says, eyes flashing. 

“Sit. Your leg is shaking.”

And Morwen Halmacar, Steward of Arnor, sits, rubbing her temples.“Tell me about them.”

“From their dress to their speech, I have never encountered Men like them. They were first spotted by Brandybuck children playing seek-me, After that, the Master summoned us to Crickhollow to alert us and request our aid.” 

“Are the children safe?” 

“Oh, yes. They were some distance away, and the strange Men did not notice them. After speaking to the Master, I dispatched my Men. Since they did not seem to be trying to hide we found them quickly, then watched them for some time. Only when one appeared to become distressed did we intervene.” 

“I would have never thought it. Elladan Peredhel, becoming soft.” 

Elladan shakes his head. “Never, in all my days, would I permit suffering as that Man suffered. His companion agreed to allow us to aid him, and agreed to have an audience with Estel, should we provide them with food and shelter.”

“Were they armed?”

“Yes, oddly, with a shield and some knives. No more than that. They hardly seem able to hunt for themselves, nevermind do your forces harm. I sense no malice from them, Morwen.” 

“ Being oddly armed is still being armed. They could be scouts.” 

“Perhaps. But would scouts allow the enemy to take them in? And would they not have hidden from us when they heard us approach?” 

“Spies, then.” 

Elladan shakes his head. “No. Bucky---” he says the name slowly, testing the strange syllables--- “the Man we aided, was in true anguish. It was no pretense for sympathy, I can assure you that.” 

“So not scouts and not spies,” murmurs Morwen. She fiddles with her necklace, a wooden pendant whittled into a star, at odds with her riding dress’ elegance. “What do you believe them to be, friend?” 

Elladan pauses. Then, he says,“They are lost. Lost soldiers, far from home. How they came to be here, I cannot say, but they are weary, as though stumbling home after a long battle.”

Morwen nods. “I see,” she said. “While you know I have the utmost trust for your judgement, Elladan, our Men were right to bring this matter to the King’s attention. Any armed Men moving towards the border of the Shire is a matter of great concern to the Lord King,” she says. Softening, she laughs to herself and looks up at Elladan. “I feel too old for this Elladan.” 

Elladan snickers. “Morwen, you are twenty-five.” 

“That is the worst part,” she groans. “Truly, you think they mean no harm?” 

“I do.” 

Morwen nods, leaning upon on her cane. “Very well,” she says, rising to her feet. “I will send a messenger to the King, and then stay to ride with you. I wish to meet them.” 

“Of course, Lady,” says Elladan, bowing again to her, then leading Lady Halmacar from the tent. 

 

Bucky had lapsed back into a doze when Elladan and the Lady enter the tent. As Steve stands, Bucky leaps in front of him and shielded him with his body, baring his teeth.  
“Who is she?” he growls, staring accusingly at Elladan. 

Elladan sighs, seeming more amused than anything. “She, friend, is the Lady Morwen Halmacar, and the Steward to my liege. Please, be at peace, so she can be too. It seems you are cut from the same cloth.” 

“Buck…” says Steve, and gently tugs on Bucky’s sleeve. Bucky rips his arm free, but retreats to sit on the edge of the bed nonetheless, a knee touching Steve’s. Still, he watches the Lady Halmacar hawkishly. Although one leg visibly shakes from bearing her weight, she holds her shillelagh with both hands diagonally across her body, the clubbed end tilted slightly in their direction. 

“You sense no malice?” says Lady Halmacar, casting a bitter glance at Elladan. 

“No malice,” says Elladan, easily. “Just confusion. Fear. Pain.” 

“You Elves have a strange definition of malice then.”

“Ah, you would have to ask an Elf about that. Sit,” he says. He pulls out a chair from a corner of the tent and places it behind her. "You are too quick too see enemies where they are none."

“I am the Steward, and I am protecting my people, Elladan," she snaps. 

“And my friend is protecting me, and himself,” says Steve. “I think Elladan is right. You and Bucky are both cut from the same cloth, and are ready to defend yourselves and what you care about. Sit down and put down your club, ma’am. It’s only fair. Bucky stepped down for you, which isn’t easy for him, I promise you. If you do the same, I’m sure we can come to some sort of understanding.” 

Sighing reluctantly, Lady Halmacar sinks into the chair, and rests her shillelagh at her side. “Who are you?” 

“Steve Rogers,” he says, moving across the room to shake her hand. She glances at it, and scowls. He withdraws his hand, slightly embarrassed. “And that’s my friend, Bucky Barnes.” 

“What are your intentions here?” 

“Intentions? None. We don’t have any intentions here. We don’t know where here is.” Steve runs a hand through his hair. “Just...looking to get home, I guess.” 

“It seems odd,” she says, “that you would get here without any sense of where exactly you were.” 

“I swear to you, ma’am, that’s the honest truth.” 

“There is more to this story.” 

“I wouldn’t know how to begin,” says Steve. “I don’t know if you’d ever believe me.” 

Lady Halmacar snorts. “Try me,” she says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you! I was a little nervous about this chapter---any and all feedback is welcome. 
> 
> A big nerdy thumbs up to anyone who can figure out part of Morwen's backstory.

**Author's Note:**

> This is 99% self-indulgent nonsense, but I'm having fun, so what the hey. Hopefully you guys get some enjoyment out of it. 
> 
> (Also, yes, I know Westron =/= English. Let me live my silly fan dreams, nerds).


End file.
